Nameless
by hersheykisses01
Summary: You'll never know what it's about unless you read it.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Meeting

Ok, so we were at Sarah's bat mitzvah. She'd been talking about having one for a long time and it was actually a year and a half after we all turned 12 that she had hers. It was in the September before eighth grade and we were all excited to see all our classmates after the two months of summer. Of course, our clique all sat together: me, Tiffany, Abigail, Yifat, Rachel, Ariella, and Sarah, the bat mitzvah girl. It was during the dancing that I first saw him. I wasn't really feeling in the mood to dance so me, Tiffany, Yifat, and Abigail kinda hung back at the side. I was chatting with them about usual girl stuff, shopping, Tiffany complaining another girl had the same shoes as her in camp (she gets _very_ upset about things like that) when I happened to glance around the room. I saw him through the corner of my eye, and it was like the cheesy slo-mo in movies. He glanced up and caught my eye, a faint smile dancing on his lips. I flushed and lowered my gaze, returning my attention to our convo. But I couldn't concentrate just when I'd seen a vision of perfection. He was tall, maybe 5'7 (I know, but that's still tall to my petite 5'1 ½) with gorgeous wavy dark red/auburn hair, hazel eyes (like mine!) and tan, muscular arms. Perfection (sigh). Yifat caught where I was looking and grinned, "that dude's hot." I rolled my eyes not wanting to voice my disdain. _He wasn't_ hot_, he was beatiful, _I thought.

I slipped over beside Sarah. "Who's the guy over there, talking to the lady with the boa?"

Sarah shrugged, "Probably one of my parents' friends' kids, I don't know." She grinned mischievously "Why, think he's cute?"

I just shrugged.

My first encounter with him was at the buffet table. I was standing in line for the food, Yifat in front of me. I heard a movement behind me and I looked behind me in the corner of my eye. I stifled a gasp. I tapped Yifat on the shoulder, "It's _him_" Yifat casually looked back and snickered "oh, your hottie." I felt anger rise up. _He _wasn't** hot**, he was . . . I couldn't find an adequate word to describe him.

All of the sudden, I felt something drip down my black skirt. I gasped. It was _ketchup_! Something all girls know to be hazardous when wearing fancy clothes.

"I'm so sorry!" It was _him!_ All of the sudden, my horror at the ketchup vanished and all that mattered was that a gorgeous guy was apologizing to _me_.

"I'm so sorry, really, I am."A gorgeous guy, and a sexy English accent to boot!

"It's fine," I replied.

"No, it's not. Send me the dry-cleaning bill, I'll pay for it. I'm so sorry I don't know how it happened." He'd knocked the ketchup off the buffet table.

"It's not a problem" I protested. "Look." I wipe the excess off my skirt with a napkin. "It's not so bad"

He sighed, finally realizing apologizing was useless. He held out his hand. "I'm Michael Molloy"

"Julia Marcus" I said shyly and grasped his hand.

"Julia," he echoed and I knew I loved hearing my name on his lips.

"You're very pretty, Julia," he murmured.

A gorgeous guy with an English accent who thought I was pretty and made me extremely comfortable in his presence (the last was not usual for me to be around people.)

"Not like you," I grinned, inwardly gasping at my uncharacteristic audacity.

"Are you _flirting_ with me?" He said, a smile creeping onto his face.

"No!" I said, horrified at how I must've sounded.

"But are flirting with _me_?" I flirted, gasping inside again at my atypical temerity and also how easy it was to be myself around him.

He laughed, a full, head tilted, boyish laugh. "No comment" he said playfully.

I giggled shyly.

The line progressed and we moved forward until we could see the food. There was bowl of circular, orange ball-things of which I had no idea the name.

"Ew," he whispered, "I wonder who'd eat that caviar?"

I giggled and nodded, grateful he'd spoken before I had. I was going to ask what he thought those were but now I was glad I hadn't spoken up first and looked like an idiot.

Then, an old man hobbled over to fill up his plate, (and I mean fill up, not just a medium-sized portion, but completely cover his entire plate) with those orange marble-looking caviar.

The man looked our way as Michael and I burst out laughing.

We moved up the line and took, our food, careful too stay far away from the caviar.

We caught up with each other at the other end of the food table and for some unapparent reason, Michael started to crack up once again. I started to feel self-conscious and asked "What are you laughing at?"

"Look at our plates," was his laughing reply.

I did and realized we had both taken the same exact foods. I joined in his laughter. When all our tears and doubling over subsided, Michael said to me, "Well, I gotta go, see ya around?"

I was completely taken aback at his words - he wanted to see me around!- "S-sure."

" 'K, bye."

"Bye," I said shyly

I walked as if in a daze to the table where my "clique" was sitting

"OMG, Jule, the hottie, he was _talking _to you!" Yifat exclaimed excitedly.

I decided not to fix her terms (_hottie_) but for the first time really looked down at my skirt and groaned ."Oh gosh, I have to clean myself up."

"I'll come," Abigail said.

We hurried to the girls' room where I preceded to try to get all the ketchup out of my skirt.

"So what was it like?" Abigail gushed.

I smiled at her enthusiasm – she wasn't usually so crazy about boys. "Well..." I told her it all and when I was done, she was nodding her head a huge smile across her face. "He totally likes you."

"What?" I protested, "He was just being nice, he's like 3 years older than me and a god of perfection."

"He totally likes you," she repeated

I sighed knowing I wouldn't be able to sway her thinking.

We walked back to the table, my black skirt still having a reddish blob on the bottom but I'd decided it would be a nice memento of the one time a (gorgeous) guy talked to me of his own will.

I sat down at my seat to eat but my mind kept straying to Michael.

"He left, y'know ," Tiffany commented.

"Huh?"

"Your guy, when you were in the bathroom, he left with a lady in a boa."

"Oh." I'd already figured I would never see him again.

The Bat Mitzvah was on a Saturday night so after I was dropped off at home by my car pool, it was already really late, 11:43 to be exact, and my whole family was asleep. Even so, I booted up my computer, and went on toGoogle Michael Molloy.

I was Googling Michael Molloy and _nothing_ came up – I mean _nothing_. I typed his name in, careful to spell it correctly, and _zero_ results – _zero!_ Usually there are a ton that pop up, even if it's about Michael Jordan or Dr. Michael Mollstein, but this time – nothing.

I was a bit perturbed by that, but I was tired so I shut down the computer, resolving to find out more about Michael if it killed me (then, I didn't know how close to the truth I was getting).


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: A Second Time Around

The next day was Sunday and Abigail and I were going to the mall. We were in CVS. I was looking at hair products, she was in the makeup aisle (she was "running low on lip gloss." That means she has six lip glosses but could use another sigh). All of the sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Expecting it to be Abigail, I turned around the words "Should I get..." on my lips but the words died as I saw who it was that tapped me. It was Michael! I hadn't expected to see him again, let alone so soon.

"Julia!" he said, overjoyed.

"H-hey , Michael," I said, flustered at seeing him and also a little excited that he had remembered my name. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was here, um, um looking for something for my um mum, but then I saw you and decided to come over."

"Um, okay," I responded, his answer so not credible and such a lie.

"What are you looking at?"

I blushed. I'd been thinking of highlighting my hair with one of those Pantene things but hadn't told anybody yet. But he noticed the bottle I was holding.

A smile found its way onto his lips. And a hand reached out to lightly touch my hair. "Your hair's beautiful naturally, don't ever think about chemicalizing it."

Now I was blushing furiously. "Oh, well..." I put the bottle back on the shelf.

"Do you have a phone number? I still haven't forgotten the ketchup yesterday."

If it was possible to blush even more, I was doing it. He was asking for my number! "Um, I have a screen name." I offered.

He chuckled. "Oh, right, mums, they always come to the silliest conclusions." I nodded, grateful at his understanding, but a tiny part of me still wanted him to want my mom to know about him, but that was irrational because **I** didn't _want_ my mom to know about him. "I'll take the screen name, though," he continued.

"Sure," I said, ripping out a piece of paper and taking out a pen. I wrote my screen name down.

He then wrote _his_ screen name down for me.

Just as we were doing the exchanging of screen names, Abigail came.

"Hey, Julia, look what I fou-" her eyes found Michael with me before she could voice what exactly she found. "Oh, I don't mean to interrupt."

"No, no," Michael said. "I have to go anyway."

"I'll speak to you later" he whispered to me and a huge smile was on my face. He waved and then was gone.

"What was _he_ doing here!" Abigail asked.

"He was," and I made air quotes, "'getting something for his mom'"

"Yeah, right." Abigail could also see through his story completely. "He so likes you. What did he _give_ you though?" She squealed.

I looked at the paper he gave me for the first time then. We both squealed and jumped up and down like complete _girls_ to the annoyance of many customers.

In a beautiful, curled script was written, clutched the paper to my chest, a precious key to _him_.

That night, I was sitting in front of the computer screen, my im on. I was online and so was he, but I was too nervous to start talking first. Finally, I took a breath and lowered my hands to the keyboard. As I started to type the letters, however, an im came through from him.

**michaelm (9:25): hi **

Julebunny (9:25): hey!

**michaelm (9:25): wat r u doing**

Julebunny (9:26): actully, I was waiting for u to im me

**michaelm (9:26): : ) y didnt_ u_ im _me_ if u new I was on?**

Julebunny (9:26): blush I wanted u to start

**michaelm (9:26): ooo**

**michaelm (9:27): do u know lay-z bean café**

Julebunny (9:27): yeah, theyre the best

**michealm (9:28): ummm, u wanta go there w/ me?**

**michealm (9:30): hello?**

I had been hyperventilating – he was asking me out!

Julebunny (9:31): sry,brb

**michaelm (9:31): julia?**

Julebunny: This is Julebunny's refrigerator. Julebunny is not here right now and I don't know when she'll come back, but when she does, you can leave her a message.

Thank _G-d_ for away messages.

My fingers shakily pressed the numbers on my cell phone to call Abigail's .

"Hello, Thomas residence, how may I help you?" Abigail's voice chirped into my ear.

"Hey! Heaskedmeout." I gasped.

"Who, what, when where why, huh?"

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "Michael and I are im'ing and he just asked me to go with him to Lay-Z Bean!"

I could almost _see _her jaw drop into a silent 'o' as she said, "Oh. My. G-d."

"Yeah, so anyway my mom would freak if she saw me in a car with a boy going by ourselves, so could, like, you and Yifat go to Lay-Z Bean the same time I'm supposed to meet him and I'll come and leave with you guys and I'll meet him there?"

"Ummm, hold on a sec." She went to ask her mother. "Mom says fine, let's conference Yifat."

"'K."

Soon Yifat was on the line with us and we related the idea to her.

"Sure fine," she replied.

"Hold on, I have to find out when," I said. "Stay on the line."

"'K."

"'K."

Julebunny (9:52): hey, sry bout that. ya i'd love to go w/ u

**michaelm (9:52): cool. is next Saturday nite at 7 ok w/ u?**

"Next Saturday night at seven?" I asked Abigail and Yifat, and in a minute, after making sure, they responded with yeses.

Julebunny (9:53): ya that wud b gr8!

**michaelm (9:53): do u want me to pick u up?**

Julebunny (9:54): how about if we meet there?

**michaelm (9:53): good. cant wait**

Julebunny (9:54): me neither

**michaelm (9:54): I gtg, sry, bb**

I sighed. It seemed he was always running off quickly.

Julebunny (9:54): k, bb


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: An Unsatisfying End (or not?)

All week I was crazy with anticipation and nervousness. I couldn't really concentrate in school, my notes were for once in my perfect life, a mess, and all because of a guy. Amazing to think a guy could make me feel this much inside.

The week passed by in a whirlwind of a blur, and before I knew it, it was Saturday night and I was hearing the honk of Abigail's mom's car.

"Bye, Mom," I called giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Don't stay out too late."

"We'll be home before 2," I said, teasing.

My mom smiled. "Bye, have a good time."

_If only you knew_, I thought as the door flapped closed behind me and I squeezed into Abigail's minivan.

"Hey guys."

"Hello," and "Hey," They (Yifat was there too of course) answered, obvious meaning in their eyes.

We were let off just outside and we rounded the steps into the café. We walked inside, leaving the chilly September night air behind us. Immediately I spotted him, zeroing in on the beautiful guy with the windswept auburn hair in the two-seater table in the back. I waved and he looked up with a genuine smile.

"See ya guys later. We'll split here. Come get me when you're leaving."

They both just grinned. I left them, those kidders, and walked over to him in the back.

"Hey," I said breathlessly, slipping into the seat opposite him.

"I was beginning to think you had ditched," he said teasingly.

"Huh?" I looked at my watch and smiled sheepishly. It was 7:52. "Sorry."

"It's fine." His face softened. "Want to order?"

"Yeah, sure."

"What do you want? I'll go up to the counter and order for us."

What a gentleman. That was an inconspicuous way of letting me know he'd be paying. How sweet. No male other than my dad had ever taken the bill.

"If you insist," implying at the paying.

"I do," he answered, understanding.

I grinned. "Okay, I'll have a peanut butter milkshake." My safe drink, I have it every time and I didnt want to risk trying something new on my first date.

"Sure," he said and stepped in line at the cash register.

I heard giggles and turned my head. There were Yifat and Abigail. They had already ordered and were sipping cold milkshakes, _eyes fixed on me and Michael._ They were laughing. I felt my face grow hot and fiddled with a pen and a napkin, making little doodles.

Michael came back with my peanut butter milkshake in one hand and a ... a drink I couldn't place in the other. In his mouth were two straws and it all looked so comical, I had to laugh. He grinned and set down the shakes and straws.

"They have a new drink," he raised his cup, "cookies and cream with espresso."

"Sounds good. I'll have to remember that for the next time."

We sat down to sip our shakes when we heard a loud chorus of laughter. We both saw Abigail and Yifat, cracking up, staring at us.

I winced, embarrassed "I'm sorry, my friends."

He chuckled. "Why don't we move outside?"

"Good idea," I said gratefully.

We sat down outside at one of the four little tables in the front of the café.

He pulled out my chair for me to sit. I was delighted and whispered a thanks.

"So," he said, lips around his straw. "I see you once at a friend of my friend's bat mitzvah, and then find myself bumping into you, and wanting to, all over. You mystify me. I don't know what it is, but you've got me."

I flushed, a truly horrible characteristic of mine of my face to completely redden so easily, but I was also pleased and surprised. "Michael, how old are you?"

"You think that really matters?" his face fallen.

I sighed. "Michael, I'm thirteen, almost fourteen. I'm too young to be thinking of relationships seriously. While you must be seventeen. What could you possibly see in me?"

"Well, I'm not seventeen."

I frowned. "Then how old are you?"

"You want the truth."

"What else would I want? For you to lie?"

"Well, then, I'm 432." He said, his face completely straight.

I rolled my eyes, frustrated.

"Just kidding. Seriously? I'm sixteen."

"Still," I replied. "If this is a joke, it's not the least bit humorous. You're _six_teen, three years older than me."

"Julia, when I first saw you at the bat mitzvah, you were chatting with your friends, having the times of your lives it seemed. I was there with an elderly-ish woman – tons of fun, right? No. When I was behind you in the line and I spilled ketchup on you, you didn't seem to care. When I talked to you, you were intelligent, and witty, and mature. You don't seem thirteen going on fourteen, you act older. You attract me, and I'm not the type of person who will readily admit feelings, but with you, I'm so comfortable, I can. When I'm around you, all my troubles seem meaningless compared to making you happy."

Michael had this annoying voice way of speaking that you could listen to for days, it was like honey, captivating, making you believe his words. Annoying because the part of my brain not affected by his voice was reminding me how cliche and romantic but untrue his words were. But that was only the smallest part of my brain. The other part, wanted to be enchanted by his words, listen solely to him, and believe what he was saying. And just as I was about to open my mouth, we heard footsteps and giggling.

We both looked up. It was Abigail and Yifat, bags swinging from their arms. They were prepared to leave.

"Ummm, Jule? You ready?"

Michael looked pleadingly at me one last time.

I wanted to believe him, I really did, but the spell was broken. I had to go.

"I-I gotta go," I said apologectaly to his look, not wanting to leave as much as I had to.

I picked up my milkshake (from which until now I hadn't realized I had not drank at all), slung my bag over one shoulder, and stood up, Michael sitting there forlornly.

All the way home, all I could think of was Michael. Yifat and Abigail tried "to get the juicy details out," but I wouldn't answer. I was upset. I liked Michael (it had been starting to be something more than like), and he seemed to really like me, but he was so much older than I, not to mention the fact I didn't know a thing about him other than a screen name.

Mrs. Thomas dropped me off at my house where I fumbled with my key and eventually let myself in. My mother saw how exhausted and upset I was and was courteous enough not to ask how it had been. I plopped onto my bed and fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Something Sickening

The weeks went by without any im's or sightings of Michael. I was still nursing my wounds, but they were wounds that would never heal, emotional wounds. I was falling in love with Michael.

I did not know where Michael lived, so I tried calling information, asking for the number of Michael Molloy, but it was unlisted.

I knew I had hurt Michael, but I loved the handsome stranger, and it was like life was meaningless without him.

But as it always does, life goes on. And so for the next three months, I saw and heard nothing of Michael. I buried myself in schoolwork, insistent on numbing myself, not wanting to be one of those girls who basically killed themselves over a guy. But it was too hard for my mind to not trace over his face, and remember every crevice and notch. I wanted to feel him there, to lean against him and for everything to be all right again. But I immersed myself in papers and didn't let my mind stray.

I was so into this mode now, that when my mother showed me the newspaper article clipping, I didn't think all that much of it. Sure, it was terrible, but I didn't connect it with anything about me personally.

I was channel surfing, keeping things light, when my mother walked in. It was a normal Tuesday evening with my normal mom sitting down beside me on our normal brown leather couch.,

"Hey," she said in welcome.

"Hey," I responded dully. Everything about me felt dull nowadays.,

"I was reading the paper, and thought you might want to read this."

"Huh?" She had my attention.

She handed a little cleanly scissored out article from the newspaper.

I squinted to read the small print. It was about some animals – rabbits, foxes, etc.– that had been savagely ripped at the throat and drained of all blood. Creepy. The guts and everything else were completely intact, just the blood was drained out. Really creepy. The article went on to say when the animals had been discovered, there was a flash of an auburn-haired man running away so inhumanly fast, it was thought to be some animal, but whatever it was, on its neck was a scratch of red, as if one of the mutilated animals had put up a fight.

"That is sick." I handed my mother back the clipping.

"I thought so too. Some diabolical guy or thing or _some_thing completely _destroying_ those poor creatures. If he wanted the skins or meat so much, he could've taken those, but what he did is extremely disgusting."

"Uggghh, I don't want to think about it," I replied, completely grossed out.

But I did think about it. For the next few weeks, in fact. It was such a _sickening_ act, it really creeped me out. I had always been an animal lover. Always felt for them and treated any stray cat I found as my own. So this perverse animal mutilation completely sickened me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Explanations (But Do We Believe Them?)

That Saturday night, my mom and I were having a girls' night out at the mall, y'know, normal girl shopping stuff.

We both were avid readers so a major stop was Borders Books and Music. My mom browsed the books in the adult section while I stayed in the Teen's.

My finger skimmed the shelves, searching for the perfect novel when a hand reached out across my mouth and pulled me behind a bookcase. I yelped but it was muffled by my captor's hand.

Angrily, I turned around, ready to start screaming, when I saw my capturer's face. _It was Michael._

"_Michael?" _I gasped.

He grinned. "Nice to see you too."

"Where have you been? It's like, after Lay-Z Bean, you just quit yourself out of my life. I really missed you." The last sentence poured from my mouth unwanted.

"You missed me, huh?" He grinned even larger.

"Oh, I didn't me-, well, yes, but –," I flustered.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I told you there was something, a connection between us. We were meant to find each other."

"Michael," I began. "I don't know a thing about you, or you much about me."

"Still having doubts," he acknowledged. "That's okay, it's cool." He raised his arms in a defeatist gesture.

"No, I didn't mean that. Michael, I-I think I love you."

"Jule," he whispered.

"Yes?" Tingles ran down my back.

"I have felt that way ever since I saw you at the Bat Mitzvah."

Now this would be the part in all those cheesy movies where the hero and the heroine would clash into a fierce kiss, but we just grinned silly grins at each other.

At that moment, I noticed an orange scarf tied around his neck. I fingered it lightly.

"Funny, I never thought you'd be the type of guy to wear scarves."

He gave a wry smile. "Actually, I'm not. My grandmother gave me a 'present,'" he made air quotes, "and I felt that I should wear it at least once."

"Ok," I said, accepting his answer.

"Julia? Are you ready?" I heard my mom calling.

He sighed. "It seems as though we are always being cut off." Then his face lit up. "Tell ya what, why don't we get together tonight at the Big Park? We'll have it all to ourselves after midnight. 2:30 okay?"

I squirmed. "Um, I don't know about you, but that would require sneaking out of the house for me. But I'll do it. 2:30."

As we stood up, his scarf drooped a little and a long scratch was revealed. It looked familiar somehow but I couldn't place it. He inconspicuously pulled the material back to cover the wound and acted as if nothing had happened.

"See ya," I whispered and found my mother.

At 2:15, my alarm beeped and I awoke. Silently, and cautiously, I heaved up my window. Taking quick glances out to make sure no one was in view, I wrapped one ankle around the side of the tree right outside my bedroom window. I climbed down and soundlessly dropped to the ground. I winced. In the short fall, I had landed badly and sprained my ankle. I hobbled to the sidewalk, testing if my leg would be able to carry my weight. It seemed fine. I arrived at the Big Park and spotted him sitting languidly on a bench – my Prince Charming. I limped over toward him.

He looked genuinely glad to see me. "What happened to your foot?" He asked, concern etched over the finely chiseled features of his face.

I grimaced. "Sprained it, but it should be fine."

"Hope it gets better."

"Thanks."

There were no awkward silences between us, no uncomfortable coughs. We talked the night away, each of us only wanting to be close and knowledgeable about the other.

Oddly though, he didn't say a thing about himself, nothing about his home life, just kept the focus on me. I didn't mind it. I wanted him to know everything about me. So I spoke about my family. How my dad had mysteriously died four years ago – we were still all reeling from the shock – leaving no family other than us behind. How my sixteen-year-old sister Melanie was barely ever home, always out partying and drinking. When she _was_ home, she was seldom sober. How Mom, also, was rarely with us; she would usually work until the late hours, leaving me to act the part of a mother to Daniel, my clingy five-year-old brother. I talked about my friends; how sometimes I felt like I never fit in and how sometimes I felt I couldn't fit in more, they were like family. How I constantly felt the burden of living up to my A-student status...

We (well really I) talked the whole night, promising we would meet each other here again next week, and eventually we fell asleep, me on his shoulder.

I woke up to the bright rays of dawn. I gasped, horrified. _I've been here all night. Mom's going to _murder _me._ I quietly lifted Michael's hand from around me, careful not to disturb his light snores. Quickly, I wrote a note on a scrap of a candy wrapper, apologizing for leaving before he awoke, and tiptoed out of the park, shoes clutched in hand.

Barefoot, I climbed up the tree and slipped into the house. I crept silently through all the rooms, and realized with relief that no one was up yet, no one had realized my absence.


End file.
